Dragon Paw's Familiar
by Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: Vignettes about Raoul's life as a prince in a quasi-fairy tale. Or that fantasy!AU no one really asked for. ErikRaoul slash in later chapters. Much later.
1. An Introduction to Isolation

Title: Dragon Paw's Familiar  
#: 01. An Introduction to Isolation  
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: Princes can be locked in towers, too.  
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Pairing(s): none yet  
Warning(s): AU  
Word Count: 979  
Rating: T

A/N: A self-indulgent one shot that's not a one shot (when are they ever one shots anymore?).  
Story note: A fantasy!AU that totally makes sense in my brain. Vignettes about Raoul's life as a prince in a quasi-fairy tale.

o.o.o.o

When Raoul is seven, he is sent away from home.

One evening, an evening so very much like the ones before it, his parents tell him that he is going away. They tell him of a curse that is not a curse and of powerful men and women who would seek to control him.

He does not understand many things of what they say: why he must leave and why they cannot fight against these powerful individuals. Most of all he does not understand because of all the stories he has heard, princesses were locked in towers and princes went on noble journeys to not only save them but marry them. His sisters tell him other stories of princesses saving princesses, of knights being saved by farmers, of commoners falling in love with royalty and of all the variations in between. Yet, all they are to him are stories.

None in his family have been directly touched by the magick that is so very pervasive throughout the land. They have wizards and seers at their disposal, witches and sorcerers in their retinue, but the Chagnys themselves have not been blessed with such abilities.

His father met his mother at a ball where they fell in love as was foretold when he was but a babe. His brother goes from quest to quest sent by their kingdom's wizard with nothing but his sword, his shield, and his faithful knights. His sisters help their people by directing necessary spells and magicks to those in need. Their lives, though touched by magick, remain apart from it.

His life alone has been immersed in magick. Clairvoyants relay dire messages of monsters clinging to his shadow, of death at the end of a cursed sword. Even his father's trusted wizard has cautioned him against those with magicks, for even though Raoul has none of his own, he draws those that do to him, acting as both conduit and amplifier.

His siblings have all had normal christenings, even with the blessings of the fairies upon them. Raoul's christening, he has been told, had been both eventful and disastrous. The castle and surrounding town had been overrun by every magical being and magick user not only in the Chagny kingdom but the neighboring ones as well. Tensions were high; arguments and their subsequent property damage occurred until the king had been forced to send everyone away.

Before he leaves, his parents tell him of a quest he will take when he comes of age to find a magick user to bind himself to in order to repel those who would seek to abuse his latent abilities. Until he is eighteen though, he is told, he must be kept safe.

Safe, he learns after the last tendrils of the teleportation spell fade, means alone.

There is an empty, abandoned edifice in the mountains. It is not a tower, but rather a large, stone hall sitting upon a peak in a mountain range. There are no stairs leading to his new home, only sheer cliffs on all sides of the hall smoothed by time, magick, and the elements. Tucked in one corner of the large hall is a bed, a desk, a basin and chamber pot, and piles upon piles of dusty books. The rest is dark, cavernous space. There is but one window low enough that he can peer through, the others are high near the ceiling, large bays that do nothing to keep the wind from entering.

Despite the snow that surrounds them, Raoul finds he does not freeze. The hall has been imbued with minimal magicks to keep him warm, fed, clothed, clean, and most importantly isolated. Like clockwork, he is provided water and a meal three times a day, a clean chamber pot every morning, and new clothes once a month.

He learns later that the hall and the windows near the ceiling are large for a reason. The dragon his parents have assured him would protect him and be unable to do him harm comes and goes as it pleases.

Raoul has never seen a dragon before. They are rare and dangerous. Only the strongest of magicks can bind such a fierce creature to any person or location. He cannot help but wonder the story behind the dragon that shares his home.

He spends the first month surreptitiously glancing at the massive creature before realizing that blatantly staring has no repercussions beyond gold eyes staring intently into his own. He learns to quickly hold that gaze, not so much in defiance as in recognition. At times, Raoul feels as though he does not exist until those eyes alight upon him.

Red and black charred scales create a natural armor and leathery wings fold neatly against its back. Each paw and wing have wicked claws. Gnarled scars litter its body, face, and tail, and he can only wonder what would be large enough or strong enough to pierce such scales and skin.

Even resting, the dragon is coiled muscle and mass and a twitching tail that speaks its displeasure when it must seek shelter from inclement weather. To Raoul, it is always snowing, always blizzarding outside his new home. He misses the sun and the forests that surrounded their kingdom and can understand the dragon's discontent.

He likes when the creature swoops in from above, likes the gust of wind that surrounds him like a hug. He has even grown accustomed to the scent of sulfur that is nearly suffocating when it is present. Though he has yet to see it breathe fire, he does not doubt that it can.

He eventually takes to speaking to it and though he obtains no response beyond semi-baleful glances when he complains, he does not mind. All Raoul knows is that the dragon is listening and not ignoring him.

It is the best he could hope for.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 01

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Fic Review: Yeah, short chapters, vignettes, no coherent one shot like I had originally wanted. *sigh I usually give a day between writing and editing, but I'm on a timeline here. So, sorry? I did the best that I could? This was supposed to be my birthday one shot (I don't intentionally start multi-chaptered fics when I have unfinished ones already, but it just happened.)


	2. The Company of Books and Dragons

Title: Dragon Paw's Familiar  
#: 02. The Company of Books and Dragons  
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: Dragons care.  
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Pairing(s): none yet  
Warning(s): AU  
Word Count: 1,898  
Rating: T

A/N: Why do I feel like there is way too little Erik/Raoul going on here and I still honestly can't seem to care? I mean, Raoul and a dragon is all I need right now for some reason.  
Story note: I have always wondered about princesses stuck in towers when they were young. Isolation is hard on everyone, especially kids. Talk about a reason for depression.

o.o.o.o

Raoul quickly realizes that he cannot spend every moment of the day studying his dragon, especially when said dragon spends most of the daylight hours outside of the hall and at night, Raoul can hardly see him. So, he reluctantly recreates a facsimile of the schedule he'd had before being forced to leave his home.

Once in the morning and once in the evening, he walks the perimeter of the hall since he no longer has the pony he used to ride. There is no countryside in which to bask, no forest to roam, no rivers to swim within. The hall is indeed empty of everything save for the meager items in his corner. Most evenings, he runs as hard as he can, the pounding of his footsteps echoing in the empty space, simply to tire himself out, to reach a point where he can do nothing more than fall into a dreamless sleep.

After breaking fast, he draws whatever shapes he sees within the clouds and snowcapped mountaintop after mountaintop while staring forlornly out of the window at the ever unchanging scenery. His tower is completely surrounded by mountains in which only rock and snow are visible. If he is lucky, such monotony will be broken by the striking image of his dragon cutting through the skies. That happens very rarely. Sometimes, he tries to draw his family but hates how even poorly drawn images, scribbled lines upon paper can turn sadness into piercing heartache.

He misses the sound of his sisters' voices regaling him with tales of bravery and deceit. He misses his brother recounting his own journeys and his father complaining to his mother. He misses the laughter and every now and then, he will try to remember what it felt like to laugh. He simply cannot remember any longer. To fill the silence, he sings every song he can remember as loudly as he can until his throat hurts.

After midday meal, he devotes time to his studies, remembering his tutor's stern words of the importance of knowledge. He skims book after book from history and nature compendiums to fiction and poetry, attempting to understand any of it. None hold his attention for very long and he begins to worry about the state of his education until he finds a series of large tomes on dragon lore and language.

All semblance of routine vanishes the moment he opens the first book. He spends his days curled around such vital information, picking at his food and foregoing sleep in order to learn more about his only companion. When his muscles ache, he paces beside the bed since he is unable to hold the tome and walk at the same time.

Reading takes all of his concentration and effort. The words are ponderous and old, most passages requiring him to read and reread each word carefully. The only time he focuses on topics other than dragon lore is when he is forced to research references of an era he is much too young to have lived through. He struggles through the alluded extracts in the history books.

He finds himself bemoaning the reading lessons he used to avoid and at his poor grasp of the written word. He alternates between reading aloud (when his dragon is not present) and mouthing the words to himself (when his dragon is present). There are hours when he can only stare blankly at the ceiling, waiting for the frustration and headache to fade as his mind turns over the Dragon Wars and hatcheries, of knights and the magick of a dragon's heart, of the depth of runes and the power of a name. He need only think of his dragon before he finds the will to continue once more.

It is perhaps the second week of such frustration and self-neglect when he wakes curled up in the middle of his bed. He keeps his eyes closed and shifts only to remove his arm from beneath the tome and to alleviate the ache in his body. He does not particularly remember falling asleep; it has hardly been restful, but it is not the first time he has dozed mid-sentence. There is a gnawing pain in his stomach, one that he decides to ignore in favor of more sleep when a warm gust of air on his face prompts him to open his eyes.

The large, golden eye and vertical pupil of his dragon fill his vision and the book flies off his lap. He, on the other hand, ends up on the floor, legs trapped within the tangle of sheets. His heart pounds almost painfully in his chest as he huddles against the wooden bedframe, trying to still the shaking of his limbs. It is the closest he has been to the dragon since he arrived and though he does not believe the creature can hurt him, he does not take for granted that the dragon may still _want _to.

Long moments pass before he can convince himself to move. He fists the sheets to unsteadily pull himself up and peer over the edge of the bed. His dragon has not moved, and despite his fear he almost feels as though the massive creature appears amused.

"Yes?" he asks.

The dragon does not speak. Through the book, Raoul has learned that only magick can turn what he hears as nothing but grunts, barks, and roars into actual words. There is about fifty pages at the end of the last book of the series that is nothing but a list of archaic runes. So far, it is nothing but gibberish to him since he knows not their correlation to modern script, but there are chapters that reference a ritual to learn dragon language and the mastery of those runes is integral in doing so.

The dragon does not need to say a word, however, since it manages to convey displeasure with a rather pointed glance to the food on his desk. There is chastisement there and Raoul frowns at the creature. He reaches across the bed to quickly grab the book and hold it to his chest.

"I am not hungry," he lies blatantly. His stomach disagrees, of course, and chooses that moment to growl quite loudly.

The dragon echoes its own growl in response and Raoul feels that too vibrate through his body. He clutches the book tighter to himself and looks away. Eventually, his stubbornness wins and the dragon snorts and stalks only far enough away that Raoul need not strain his neck to look him in the eyes.

It is midday and Raoul glances at the plate of bread and cheese only long enough to wrinkle his nose at it. He crawls onto the large bed, pulling blankets and pillows around himself to create a makeshift nest, before settling with the book firmly on his lap. He does not bother opening it. Instead, he holds the dragon's gaze.

He knows he is hungry, understands why his stomach aches as it does but cannot explain why any interest in the fare available to him is absent. The few bites he manages to take taste like dust in his mouth no matter what it is: bread, fruit, or game. It makes ignoring the hunger pangs easier, makes sleep tug more insistently until he loses the battle to keep his eyes open.

He does dream then, an amorphous gallimaufry of colors, sounds, and memories punctuated with a gaping darkness. He loses his hold on time as frozen moments flicker in sequence: claws scraping upon stone, red scales shifting, a weight removed from his body, his dragon crouched some distance from his bed stealing glances at him, a brief impression of the woods that surround his family's kingdom. Every time he attempts to hold onto consciousness, it slips through his fingers and he falls into that darkness once more.

When he does finally pull himself from slumber, he feels better than he has felt in weeks. His mind is clear and the hunger pangs, though still present, have dulled considerably. Looking up though, he is certain he is still dreaming.

There is a grove by his bed. Thin trees stand in line; rows and rows of pink blossoms and green leaves color his vision.

Turning over to his stomach in order to climb over the nest he had created, he has a moment of panic when he realizes his book is no longer on his lap. The panic is short-lived when he spots it at the foot of the bed, and he only allows that mystery to go unconsidered in light of the rather abrupt change of interior landscaping.

He stands upon the bed for a moment to see that the grove is but four lines of trees extending to the opposite wall of his window. The four rows do not intrude upon his dragon's space and yet there are still so very many trees.

Slowly approaching the grove, he breathes in the familiar scent of nature, of recently turned dirt and leaves and a hint of fragrance he cannot seem to place. Cold stone becomes soft loam as he nears, and his cheeks begin to hurt from a wide grin by the time he is close enough to reach up and brush his fingers against a pink flower with whorls of white upon its petals.

Confused for a moment, he tiptoes in order to reach past the flower in order to grab onto a fleshy fruit and is surprised when he feels a light fuzz upon its skin. Plucking it, he hesitantly takes a bite only to find the flesh give way easily and his mouth fill with juice. He laughs at the discovery of its sweetness.

Quickly consuming the rest of the fruit, he is only disappointed upon finding the inedible pit within its center. He eats three more of the strange fruit before he cannot seem to contain a sudden burst of energy. Running down the row of the trees, he dodges and ducks between the branches as petals lazily drift down from the disturbance he causes. His laughter echoes loudly through the hall. He feels as though he can fly and it is that thought that slows then stills him.

This could all be a dream. He turns to leave the grove, footsteps heavy as he imagines what he will see when he wakes: the vast hall, a window to a bleak landscape, and the austere functionality of mere necessities.

He does not make it past the last row of trees, does not make it to the cold stone because waiting for him is his dragon, resting on its stomach and breathing a little harder than usual.

Hand still upon the last tree trunk, he glances from its eyes to the slump of its shoulders, from its uncommonly still tail to finally rest upon its claws, claws that undeniably have dirt upon them, and Raoul's eyes fill with tears even though he is still smiling.

Scrubbing at his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, he curls into himself, crouching and hides his face. He lets the tears fall, feels the sobs rip from his chest and realizes belatedly that this is the first time he has cried since leaving home.

He looks up only long enough to say, "Thank you" before the next wave of tears overwhelms him.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 02

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Chapter Review: See… dragons care. Much less fluff than I expected. :D Also, all errors are my own. I'll get back to my normal write and edit the next day schedule after today actually. (It means slower updates of course, but less stupid mistakes. Even exchange.)


	3. Unwanted Visitor

Title: Dragon Paw's Familiar  
#: 03. Unwanted Visitor  
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: Raoul and his dragon receive an unwanted visitor.  
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Pairing(s): (honestly, you know it's going to be) Erik/Raoul (always)  
Warning(s): fantasy AU, Raoul just makes me sad  
Word Count: 1,528  
Rating: T

A/N: This has remained unedited for the longest time. I don't know why I'm having a hard time writing nowadays, but it's not for lack of wanting. As is apparent when you read this, it's rough still. I can't write right now, but I can't just _not _attempt to.  
Story note: This got way more plotty than fluffy than I expected. T-T Also, I split this one in 2 for the sake of updating purposes. (October should be interesting.)

o.o.o.o

With the grove returns Raoul's schedule. It becomes easier to exercise twice a day when he is now able to dodge and duck beneath the leaves of the trees in which he has so quickly fallen in love. He returns to both his drawings and his studies, though the latter is still skewed greatly towards dragon lore. More importantly, he returns to eating regularly. His meals are supplemented heavily with the fruit from his grove, and he quickly learns that no matter how many he eats, they always replenish themselves come morning. Even the petals that fall like rain upon him do not make the branches bare nor do they clutter the ground.

The only true difference in his schedule now is that Raoul has taken to sleeping beneath the trees, blankets drawn around him as the soil acts as his bed. He looks through the branches and pretends there is a multitude of stars hidden behind the leaves and flowers. Sheltered within the grove, he can forget the four walls that encase him. Each night, he drifts from tree to tree and despite the illusion being easily shattered, he finds himself drifting towards the edge of the grove more often than not for the sole purpose of keeping his dragon in sight. The gratitude he feels every time he sees even a hint of his presence attempts to overwhelm him, his throat constricting with emotion. The scent of sulfur that curls around him soothes his soul.

And now, more than ever before, his dragon remains nearby. Even when not within the hall, Raoul has noticed that the great beast keeps well within view of his mountaintop so that he can spot him contrasting starkly against the horizon. There is a comfort he does not question being able to see him both when the night falls and the sun rises.

Yet, he startles awake confused and agitated one morning. He is far enough in the grove that he is unable to see his dragon, but the shuffle and crunch of dirt beneath his dragon's paws as it paces nearby assures him of his presence. Still, his dragon had not been the reason he has woken. He sits still for long moments seeing nothing out of the ordinary nor hearing anything beyond his dragon's footsteps and he cannot understand why his unease persists.

Then, he hears it, a high-pitched, two-tone whistle that makes him straighten and gasp.

His dragon snorts and the resulting quick shuffle means it has sprinted forward towards the noise but has stopped short of crashing through the trees. Raoul, on the other hand, tosses his blanket off of himself and scrambles away from the source of the sound, stumbling over his own feet towards where he knows his dragon to be.

He barely clears the last row of trees when he meets gold eyes that lock with his own. His next steps fail to reach the ground when a tail wraps around his waist securely, lifting him up to pull him flush against the dragon's body. Raoul's small hands clutch at the leathery appendage but there is no doubt in his mind that the dragon will not harm him by squeezing too tightly. The scales on his tail are pliable though rough and the errant thought that the beast is warmer than he had expected crosses his mind.

The chirp, and it _is_ a chirp now that Raoul takes the time to recognize it, sounds again and in the safety of his dragon's grasp, he feels foolish.

It is a bird. A bird.

His heart has yet to calm from the panic that has gripped him and it is odd to think that in the many weeks he has lived here, he has not heard the sound of any other creature besides the dragon and himself. However, he does not think he has grown accustomed to silence because he has made certain with humming and singing, muttering to himself and tapping out a rhythm with his fingertips that every second of the day is filled with activity, with life and sound. He only vaguely now realizes how insufficient that will always be in comparison to having actual life forms around him. He tries not to despise the bird for revealing such a truth.

His dragon freezes. Muscles tensing against Raoul's back draws him from his revelation. It takes a moment for him to spot the creature that has succeeded in worrying them both. It is a small thing, dark feathers with a white chest, more round than tall with a large head and a square tail that twitches up and down. It sings once more, not knowing the danger it is in now that it has finally ceased flying about. Raoul thinks he could hold it in the palm of his hand if he so wished; it is so small. Instead, he grips the dragon's tail tighter and the smell of sulfur burns the inside of his nose.

A wave of smoke pours from his dragon's snout and Raoul almost feels badly when the bird is not smart enough to fly away. One second the tiny bird is singing as the smoke creeps closer; the next, it has simply vanished. He _almost _feels badly, but instead he feels utterly relieved.

Even with the impromptu visitor gone, his dragon does not release him for at least another hour. When he does, it is reluctantly and only because Raoul's stomach growls pitifully for the breakfast he has once again grown accustomed to. Raoul is not thoughtless though. To ease the obvious worry on his companion's large, scarred face, he grabs his meal and study materials, dropping them so that he can lean against the dragon's proffered tail.

He only distractedly eats, more intent on digging through the piles of books on all things animals and magick. When he can find no sufficient text on birds that are able to go through magical barriers, he flips through all the covers searching for an ornithological journal with sufficient images to be able to identify the bird. It takes until evening but he turns one page out of a multitude and finally finds it. He glances up at the dragon who has been reading over his shoulder all day and shrugs. The scrawl of notes reveals nothing special about a 'black phoebe,' nothing nefarious nor charmed. None of the other books reveal any other in-depth information and with nothing else to do about a bird that is now gone and no more information to garner, Raoul makes sure to mark the page and journal before standing up to stretch his aching limbs.

His dragon watches him closely, but Raoul can see the agitated twitch of his leg muscles and the way his claws click on the floor. A large creature such as a dragon is not made to languish all day, laying on its stomach and allowing a small boy to use him as a backrest.

Something is holding him back however, and Raoul does his best to sound confident, "I shall be safe." He is not quite sure he believes his own words, but he knows he needs to be strong enough to stand on his own. He should not be afraid of birds when he knows there are worse creatures and people out in the world that seek to harm him. He forces a smile. "I shall remain here and continue studying." He gestures vaguely to the pile of books at his feet. "You may leave to do…" he pauses, not knowing what his dragon does outside the hall, "whatever it is dragons do."

He appreciates that his companion appears hesitant, but eventually, whatever is driving his dragon out of the hall must be more important because his wings spread open deliberately slowly so as not to disturb the books laying open still. With a powerful leap and flap, his dragon is up and out of the large bays high above him, gone with a quick backward glance as farewell.

Raoul is left alone.

He hums a two-tone melody and thinks he can hear an echo. Feeling somehow colder without his dragon at his back, he wraps his arms around his stomach and tries to whistle instead. He frowns when the sound is pitched too low and tries again. He only attempts it a third time before stopping himself and deciding to hum his mother's favorite song instead.

Dropping to the ground to grab the first book within his reach, he tries to lose himself in the book of dragon lore but for the first time, it proves futile. Instead, he ends up trying to convince himself that he is strong enough to last the evening alone, strong enough to not be afraid of the silence, of the solitude, nor of any small bird. He is strong enough not to need his dragon by his side every second of the day.

To prove this point, he huddles far into the grove away from the wide expanse of his dragon's space, curling into a tight ball as he sings a lullaby until the words slur and he falls asleep.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 03

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Chapter Review: I do not think you understand just how much I want to be able to draw kid!Raoul and his dragon. (_I can't draw!_) Also, I want to laugh at them for freaking out over a small bird (that's a small bird) but it's just kind of sad, you know. Raoul makes me sad trying to be strong even when he's alone and afraid and you know the dragon's freaking out and he's gonna do something to find out what the hell happened with that bird. All I know is that Raoul's going to develop some weird quirks – he's always going to be humming and muttering and tapping his toe or drumming his fingers. He's _going _to fill the silence. I imagine everyone around him sort of getting annoyed by it and his dragon being a bit protective and annoyed at everyone else because screw them, Raoul can make however much noise he wants. (Sidenote: Raoul actually doesn't have those ticks when he's around the dragon. The sound of the dragon breathing is enough for him.)


	4. A Connection to Home

Title: Dragon Paw's Familiar  
#: 04. A Connection to Home  
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: Bird troubles may bring more than Raoul expected.  
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul (eventually)  
Warning(s): fantasy AU  
Word Count: 1,378  
Rating: T

A/N: October fail. I guess I can't do a one-a-day for longer than a week without feeling like I'm going to die. Go figure.  
Story note: Broke this chapter up again. D: Shorter chapters = quicker updates? (supposedly) I need shorter chapters for the sake of my sanity. Sorry.

o.o.o.o

Raoul's sleep is fitful.

_Birds the size of dragons chase him through the hallways of what had once been his home. The cruel creatures crush the fruit trees that do not exist in the castle in real life but are somehow lining the hallways, towering over him as the ceiling rises and rises high above his head. His own dragon tries to fight the multitude, doing his best to draw their attention away, but it is plain to see he will quickly be overpowered, greatly outnumbered as he is. His family remains trapped behind barred windows in a far tower. He sees them always at a distance and yet so clear. His mother clings to his father while Philippe holds his sisters close. He runs and runs, knowing he must save them but never getting closer. His dream self somehow knows he must run the other way in order to keep them safe and yet he cannot bring himself to turn his back on them. _

A familiar voice draws him from his slumber and yet his immediate reaction is to wonder if he is still dreaming; it is so foreign a sound. The leaves and flowers above him as well as the delicate fruit scent convince him he is awake. His heart races, thudding violently against his chest and he is not sure if it is because of his dream or the mystery voice. He restrains himself, unlike with the bird, refusing to overreact as he did then. He holds still until he hears the voice once more. It draws him to his feet and he sneaks through the grove.

Hiding behind a tree, he peers around it to see if there is someone really there. Dark blue robes drape over a man's back, but more importantly to him at this moment is the sight of burnt red scales and a large body coiled and currently tense. The sight of his dragon coaxes him out from behind the tree and the flicker of gold eyes to his direction has the man turning enough to confirm that it is indeed his father's wizard.

Raoul sprints the last few steps, and the hope he feels must somehow show on his face because the older man gives him a sad smile before shaking his head.

"It is dangerous for even myself to be here," the wizard says apologetically. "I could not risk transporting your family and revealing your location." He shifts and pulls a bundle from his robe, "However, they did send this."

Glancing at his dragon before returning to the bundle in the wizard's hands, Raoul steps forward to reverently take the stack of letters. He clenches his jaw and tries desperately not to let the tears that brim fall. However, upon seeing his name on the first parchment in his brother's messy scrawl, he immediately turns his back to them both, ducking his head and desperately willing himself not to sniffle too loudly. He only faintly hears the wizard as he continues his conversation with the dragon, but he is glad for the attention being drawn away from him.

Hastily wiping the tears away with his sleeve, he tries to swallow through the tightness in his throat. It takes long moment and it is only once he convinces himself that he need not read the letters immediately that he feels as though he can calm down. Turning to face both dragon and wizard once more, he notices the ornithological journal open in the wizard's hands.

Once again, it is his dragon that notices him first and Raoul tries to give him a reassuring smile. He is not sure he succeeds but is distracted enough when the wizard draws those gold eyes away from him.

"Check the perimeter." It is an order and Raoul feels himself bristle on his dragon's behalf at his tone. "Ensure my magick has held."

His dragon somehow tenses further and Raoul wonders if he is going to attack the wizard, if he will succeed. Instead, the beast narrows his eyes and the low rumble of his dragon growling fills the large hall.

The wizard takes a minute step back but he grits his teeth and orders once more in as dismissive a tone he can muster, "Go." He purposefully turns his back to the dragon, as though he is completely at ease despite the large teeth bared at him, but both Raoul and the dragon can see it is a pretense.

Raoul takes a small step forward and the movement is enough to garner his dragon's attention long enough for Raoul to give him a small smile and nod. He does not wish to see what happens when a dragon that is bound attempts to kill its master.

The great beast snarls before his wings snap open with enough force that the wizard stumbles away and Raoul is forced to brace himself against the wind. His dragon is up and out of the hall before the man can grumble about it.

To distract him, Raoul immediately asks without preamble, "Do you understand what he is saying?"

Huffing, the man straightens his robe while he mutters, "I understand what the creature wants me to understand."

He nods, hoping his displeasure and jealousy is not showing, but the wizard does not take note of his pout. In fact, he barely looks at Raoul, choosing to point to the journal instead.

"You are certain it is this bird."

Raoul glances just to be polite, but he trusts his dragon to have told the wizard everything they know. "Yes. It was certainly that bird."

The man scowls and ducks closer to the book before shaking his head, muttering to himself, "It could not have flown here. It is much too small, wrong climate. It should have died." He looks around and his perusal stops at the grove, his head tilting in consideration. "Was it you who planted these trees? Where did you get the seeds?"

Raoul does not know why he does not tell him the truth, that his dragon had given it to him as a gift, but he finds himself saying, "I begged the dragon for a reminder of home." He slouches, curling around the letters still clutched to his chest. "I refused to eat until he complied." It is close enough to the truth, but it feels wrong to share just how important this grove is to him, what it means that his dragon had done it solely for his wellbeing.

As though summoned, his dragon chooses that moment to return and upon seeing Raoul cowering before the wizard, he lands with a growl and stalks the short distance with enough menace and speed that the wizard is startled into taking several steps away from them both. It takes everything in Raoul not to reach a hand out when his dragon is close enough to touch but the decision is taken from him when the dragon's tail curls around him to rest gently against his leg.

"That is dangerous," the wizard chastises, though his voice wavers, and for a moment Raoul thinks he is referring to his proximity to the dragon. "Magick maintains these trees and bringing more magick into this hall is the very opposite of what we need. You cannot draw attention to yourself," he directs his tirade more toward the dragon than Raoul. "You are just lucky that the magick that maintains the grove is weak enough to remain unnoticed within these walls. They may have been the cause of the bird's presence regardless." He stares pointedly at the dragon. "No more," he motions vaguely, "It disrupts the intricate latticework of magick that keeps the prince safe."

Raoul presses his leg harder against his dragon's tail where they touch. He is glaring at the man openly and does not care. There is no doubt in his mind that his dragon had known the trees would not reveal his presence to the world. He would not put Raoul's life at risk for any reason.

"I have reinforced the shields," the wizard blithely assures him. "Inform me if some other creature is able to breach these walls once more." The man turns, and before he transports himself away, he states, "It should not happen again."

o.o.o.o

End chapter 04

A/N: Not gonna lie. I love alliteration and am usually better about editing them out (or at least making them less noticeable) in final edits.  
Chapter Review: I love the solid front Raoul and the dragon have. :D Not liking the wizard very much right now though, like he couldn't have paid Raoul a little more attention (not that Raoul would have appreciated it from him of course), but still. It's the thought that counts.


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